Handcuffed Together
by stormfirej
Summary: After Spain undertakes wild drunken night-time adventure, Romano wakes up unwillingly handcuffed together by an annoying British "fairy". Now, they must journey (still locked up) to find the goddamn fairy, and remove it. But can he really remove it? Will he remove it?
1. Chapter 1

_Hallo! I'm back! This is not a one-shot, so hopefully I can remember to update...well...lets just remain optimistic for now XD_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._

_Enjoy~_

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_Spain grinned, and the sun catching his hair made seemed to make it turn golden._

"_Just the two of us against the world!" He laughed and swung his legs like a child. We were sitting on a fence, overlooking a tomato field. The sun was setting and well. You had to admit the scene did sort of…look romantic. Yeugh. He was still smiling when he looked at me, eyes seeming to overflow with happiness. Seriously, around this guy you practically could never feel sad; he was the literal epitome of happiness._

"_Lovi?" He asked, nervous tension creeping into his voice._

"_Yeah?" I replied, turning around to look at him, but there was only empty air. "Spain?" I asked looking around wildly, no one was there. I got off the fence and walked around, but the entire placec was empty. Even the workers had gone._

_Where the hell did that bastard go? _

"_SPAIN!" I was glaring now, but yet he didn't come out. Approximately five minutes later, however, something rustled in the leaves behind me._

_"Spain?" I asked, turning around, but instead, something hard hit me in the side of the head._

I awoke with a start-something hard had hit my head- and found out with the utmost horror where I was. In bed—now don't get me wrong, this was all fine and dandy, until I looked to the left.

Spain was in MY BED, hugging MY PILLOW (which explained why my head hurt, dammit) and his legs were curled around mine…it had been his elbow that had hit my head. Yelping, I darted away from him (what the hell was he doing in my bed?!) and then unwittingly pulled him off the bed and on top of me.

"Wha-what?" Spain groaned. "My head hurts!" Then, the blur Spaniard realized where he was and gave a startled squeal (which was so unmanly of him) and tried to get away—he only succeeded in pulling me after him.

"What the hell!" I yelled, and jerked my right arm away from him, but all I did was pull his left arm towards me. And that's when I noticed it. The glittering silver band of doom. We were connected by HANDCUFFS.

Immediately I panicked. Spain had been out drinking yesterday (why does he do that-his alcohol tolerance was even lower than mine) with the frogface and the albino potato. I had stayed at home (his friends are so uncool). Who knows, something- absolutely fucking stupid might have happened, resulting in this. Locked up, to the Spanish bastard.

"We-I mean, we didn't do-" I started, blushing furiously. Thankfully, the normally dense Spain realized what the actual fuck was going on and hurriedly shook his head, blushing too.

"Then why the HELL are you in my bed?! Are those my clothes?!" I screamed, desperately looking for a keyhole that maybe I could oh I don't know, pick?

"Well, I was upstairs and I thought, hey this bed is pretty lonely, I'm going to join Lovi downstairs! It was a brilliant idea; I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before! But when I came down I realized I wasn't wearing any clothes, so I put these on." He gestured to tank top and cotton shorts he was wearing. "I didn't know tank tops could be so comfortable!" He grinned stupidly. "I think I'm going to wear them more often."

I glanced up from my arduous task of finding the stupid keyhole, and glanced at him up and down. The first thing I notice however was how his muscles stood out in that tank top, and then immediately looked back down.

Do not even go there.

What seemed like 5 years later, Spain was still yakking about his drunken adventures, I had finally determined something completely confusing. There was no lock. There was no goddamn lock to fucking unlock this. Who would make handcuffs and not put a lock?! It doesn't make sense!

"And then we met England, who was all fairy-like and waving his wand, so we teased him about looking like a girl. It was a lot of fun!" He grinned like he had been electrocuted, but I was no longer listening to what he was saying. I was more concentrating on the words:

England

Fairy

Wand

Teased

They had taken the mickey out of a fairy-like England.

FAIRY. LIKE. ENGLAND.

I growled something entirely not nice in Italian (trust me-you do not want to know) and then proceeded to whack Spain around the head with my left hand.

"Ow! Lovi!" He glared at me reproachfully.

"YOU UTTER SPANISH COCK!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "DID YOU EVEN HEAR WHAT YOU SAID?"

He blinked at me, looking like a mystified baby seal with those stupid innocent green eyes. "What did I say, Lovi?"

"We met England, who was all fairy-like and waving his wand, so we teased him about looking like a girl." I repeated. "You made a fairy-like England angry." I smacked my face with my free hand. "Why do I even let you drink?" I groaned.

"Yeah! We found England! He had a magic wand!" He said, and then his voice trailed off when the impact of what he had said finally sunk into that thick head. "Oh."

"Oh indeed! That's why this stupid pair of handcuffs do not even have a keyhole on them you utter fucking assbutt." I swear, if I didn't love this idiotic man so much I would've killed him a long time ago.

"I uh…"

"Now we need to go find England. How are we even going to fit through the door with this?" I raised the jangling cuffs to prove a point. "No wait first things first. HOW ARE WE GOING TO CHANGE?!"

Spain stared at me, and something seemed to shift in his eyes. I was wearing only boxer shorts and the loosest shirt I owned, (thank god for not going commando tonight bless you cold autumn nights) so I don't really want to go out just like that. Imagine what it would do to my reputation!

"You could just go out like that..." Spain mumbled.

"What?" I turned around and yanked Spain in a full circle. "I guess I could just put on a pair of jeans and call it pyjama day..." I tried to shrug, but Spain was still attached me. Deciding to go with my fabulous, most brilliant plan ever, I searched for the jeans. After I found it, there was a lot of struggle just to put on the goddamn pants because I couldn't move my right hand without pulling Spain after me.

"Do I need to change?" Spain asked, staring down at his clothes.

I turned (with much difficulty) and have him the once over again. My gaze kept returning to his arms and I felt my face heating up.

"N-no. You're fine." I managed to choke out before turning to survey the door. It wouldn't fit two people at once, that meant someone would have to walk backwards and the other forwards.

It took ages and ages of explaining before Spain got the idea. Even then, when we tried it the first time, he went too fast forward and nearly bowled me over like a bowling pin. So, we agreed that I would go forwards and him backwards. It started out fine, until he moved too fast backwards and I walked too slow forwards and got jerked unceremoniously towards him, tripping over empty air before landing with a whooomph-straight into his arms. My head was trapped between his neck and his shoulder.

As though by instinct, Spain immediately put his arms around me so that he didn't fall over backwards. Now while this was alright for him, it most certainly was not for me. I was trapped in the embrace of someone who didn't know how much I fucking loved him (no really, dammit) and I couldn't move. Plus my arm was in an awkward position because Spain had dragged it backwards.

He let go of me, eventually, freeing me from the embrace. I was relieved, but at the same time, some stupid part of me didn't want him to let go. _Ever_. I would've been perfectly fine staying there, but my arm had really been starting to hurt.

"I uh…" I stammered, "We should go. "

Spain nodded, looking down at his feet. Was it just me or did I see a blush on his face? Nah, it probably was just me.

"So. To the front door we go?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice straight, instead of going all high-pitched and significantly _uncool_. (It happens when I'm fucking nervous okay! It doesn't happen all the time!)

"Si."

Now that's odd, Spain only relied on Spanish when he didn't know what else to say. (He still thinks I can't understand Spanish…poor misinformed bastard)

Spain turned and lead the way, pausing only to make sure I didn't get jerked down the stairs or vice versa, but the whole time I was still wondering

_He had stabilised his balance within a few seconds, so why did he keep holding on to me?_

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_Welp, there we go XD The first chapter. Hope ya liked it :D_

_~Stormfirej_


	2. Chapter 2

Hellooo! I am back ~

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I decided to put that thought out of my mind for now. Honestly, it wouldn't do me any good dwelling on it, so I figured I should spend more time focusing on how to get this silver band of complete imprisonment off my wrist. Although, I have to admit, I still am not quite sure how the hell we are supposed to find England, what with the entire of Barcelona to look through. What the fuck was he doing in Spain anyway?! Damn sneaky ass eyebrow shit, he probably was stalking frog face or something. He can be _so _possessive.

I was so lost in my swirl of deductions (the only redeeming quality England has are his TV shows) that I failed to notice Spain had come to a complete stop, so I walked straight into his back (His back hurts) and probably _deformed _my nose or something.

"What is it?" I asked, annoyed. Spain was just staring at the front door. At least, I think it is the front door, you can get lost in this place—all the doors look exactly the same.

"There's someone outside." Spain informed me.

"How is there someone outside?! How did you even see him through the door?" I asked, completely puzzled. Was this some magical sixth sense granted because of these stupid ass magical handcuffs?

"I can see him through the window." He gestured to the outline of someone through the curtains. Right. I totally knew that. (_So _anticlimactic)

I was just about to ask if I should open the door when it swung open of its own accord. Well then. I most certainly was not expecting that. What I really didn't expect however, was who was standing there, in the shadow of the doorway.

The bloody Brit…England. He was dressed normally, wearing his typical suit and tie. He didn't look at all like a fairy, and most certainly he was not holding a fairy wand that sparkled with all the colours of the wind.

…

What?  
Anyway, England looked up at us, noticed the handcuffs and gave this highly annoying smirk.  
"Did I do that?" He asked, that smirk still on his face.

"Yeah, you complete fucking moron, you did!" I yelled, glaring at him. At least his appearance prevented us from going on a highly complicated adventure that could probably kill me just to find a stupid Brit in the city of Barcelona. I looked to Spain for help, but he was just staring openmouthed at the sudden appearance of England.

"Now now, don't diss the only person who can get rid of that," England smirked again and pointed towards the cuffs.

"I swear, I am going to kill you and feed your entrails to the pigeons!" I snarled.

What?

Pigeons are deadly. Have you ever been attacked by pigeons? No. Thought so.

England grew a comical look on his face. "I am so scared."

He walked over and fingered the handcuffs, then stepped back and gave another one of his fucking smirks (I swear I am going to _KILL _him) and said, clear as day, "I can't get rid of it."

"YOU WHAT?!" I shrieked. "Why the fuck not?! Listen if you are lying to me I will set the mafia against you and then may god be on your side!"

I darted forward-I was so going to punch him-but the damn handcuffs held me back.

"I set this last night, yeah? There's a spell on it so I can't take it off till the requirement is fulfilled. That is, you need to uh well, I can't exactly remember, but it's got something to do with a bond." England shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?" He grinned.

I was seething, first he sets some stupid thing on me and Spain, and then he can't remember what the actual fuck to do to take it off. And, he is still wearing that damn smirk on his face.

"I swear, as soon as we get this damn thing off I am going to find you and I am going to kill you. I know where you live." I hissed, staring completely pissed at him. I turned to Spain, to ask him what he was going to do to England when we finally got the damn handcuffs off, but I found him staring at the cuffs instead.

"Spain? Staring at them won't get rid of them faster, you know."

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking." He mumbled, before looking up.

I returned to look at England, who had crossed his arms and was leaning against the door.

"What now?" I asked, voice completely coated with anger.

"Up to you." He grinned, and turned, walking off, hands in pockets. (hello, I am England and I am such a _cool_ dude I mean look at my hands in my pockets)

I ran after him, dragging Spain along in the dust. I had just reached the back of his head (I was so going to hit him into next summer) but Spain had regained his footing and held me back.

"Dammit Spain, let go! He needs to be at least smashed on the head with a chair. Please? Just once. Maybe twice."

Spain merely shook his head and kept a tight hold on me, allowing England to saunter off, unscathed. England should be glad Spain was here or he would be saying hello to the back of a chair. Or a shovel. Probably both.

When he was out of sight, I turned my head to face Spain (turning my body is such hard work now, dammit).

"What did you do that for? I asked, annoyed.

"If you had hit him, he probably would have made it even harder to take off, Lovi." He replied, staring back at the handcuffs. "We could try using Maria to break it." He shrugged.

Hold on. Did Spain just have a brilliant idea to remove these manacles? Now _that's_ something you don't see happening very often.

"Use Maria?" I repeated, unsure if I had actually heard him say that or if it was just my brain panicking.

The innocent look returned to his face. "Yeah, why not?"

You had to admit, that was a brilliant idea. Spain turned (dragging me in a circle once more _thanks_) and headed back towards the house. I had no choice but to follow-for better or for worse, I was still attached to Spain.

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Haha~ Hope you liked it :D

~Stormfirej


	3. Chapter 3

_Ello~ I am baack huehuehue! (Finally) _

_Angel: Thanks so much for your review~ Course I will keep writing! :D:D:D I am not ready to give up on this story yet XD_

_Mattaya Anne: Thanks XD I try to make it cute (this story is based on fluff) _

_Kyouno-aru: Ahhaaha, grazie XD I am trying not to make this too depressing (wellll, not just yet) _

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I was dragged back to the house unwillingly, (I mean-come on Spain, just one hit with the shovel!), feet tripping over each other as Spain set off a fast pace towards the house.

"Spain-goddammit, stop for a moment will you! I'm getting dragged around!" I yelped as I nearly fell face front onto the floor (the DIRT floor).

However, Spain shook his head and kept walking, feet hitting the ground as he began flat-out running. _Running. _

"Fuck Spain, slow down! I can't run as fast as you, idiotttttttttttttttttttt!" I was screaming now, attracting weird looks from his neighbors.

Well-it's not every day you see an Italian stumbling after a running Spaniard., connected by handcuffs. Maybe they think we are escaped prisoners or something. I half expected people to start murmuring "Prisoner zero has escaped!" (Also, considering the fact that I had just chased after a british man while holding a shovel, it was highly likely I would get some odd looks)

"¿Está todo bien?" ((Is everything alright?)) A Spanish man asked as I was whizzed past him.

"Sí, todo está bien!" ((Yes, everything is fine!)) I managed to yell before we rounded the corner, onto the street where Spain lived.

Jesus, what was with this rapid pace?! It's not like we had England coming after us or anything, why the fuck was Spain still running?! Finally, after being dragged around two street corners, Spain finally slowed down as he neared his house.

"Thank-huff-you-huff-for that." I panted, collapsing onto the front porch.

Spain shrugged as he walked to his shed where he kept his arsenal of dangerous equipment (I wonder why the authorities haven't killed him for it), resulting in me getting yanked off my butt, down a flight of stairs and then sent sprawling into the grass.

"Spainnn!" I whined, staring down at my now grass stained shirt. Fuck, and I can't even change out of this one! Spain turned around (I was dragged in another circle) and smiled.

"Lo siento, (I'm sorry) Lovi. I just wanted to get as far away from England as possible." His words were dangerous and scary, and I didn't like it one bit.

"Uh…" I managed to stammer out. That didn't sound like Spain. "Great?"

He held up his hand for me to get up, and, after a moment's internal war (_Take his hand! But…it is HIS hand! Take it dammit! NO. Yes! What are you, a coward?_), I took his hand and got up, brushing off my greenish shirt and desperately trying to hide the blush I was sure I had on my face. By the time I judged it safe to look up, Spain had already disappeared. Now that was odd, we were connected by…I looked down at my left, the handcuffs were still there, but the chain had extended by a few metres and was glowing a soft yellow. I freaked out. I seriously, completely freaked out. I lost my cool right there in the garden with a weirdly angry Spain and a bunch of Spanish people still whispering about mad and crazy people.

"WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. SHIT." I yelped and tugged at the chains. I

was full out yelling and screaming profanities at this chain, and England. It only extended a little. "SPAIN!"

"Yes Roma?" Roma? That's new. That's extremely new. That's not even Spain anymore right there. However. I was too busy freaking out over the somewhat extended chain.

"Do you notice anything different?" I asked, voice trembling slightly, staring at the chain. Spain followed my gaze to the chain, and realization soon dawned. Even angry, Spain still seemed slightly dimwitted.

"¡Dios mío!"(oh my god) He whispered, jangling the chain.

Again with the Spanish. Seriously, he's supposed to think I can't understand Spanish! In fact, he hardly ever speaks Spanish in front of me except for his bosses. I did quite like him speaking Spanish. It sounded intriguing and well, vaguely cool. (Don't you dare tell him I said that). But I digress.

"How is it doing that?" Spain asked, snapping me out of my daydream. "

I have no clue." I declared. "I don't know, and I really don't like not knowing."

Spain considered the extended chain, before walking towards the house (a mere one metre away). The chain followed his movements and lengthened accordingly.

"That is so cool." Amazed, I stared at the chain and attempted to walk backwards. However, the chain refused to move with me (thanks so much for that). "Wha-oi! Gosh dangit, extend you stupid chain!" I snarled and jerked my hand backwards, but the didn't chain didn't budge a fucking inch. And now my wrist hurts. Wow.

Spain stared at me thoughtfully, before taking a step backwards. The chain extended as per how far he stepped. (I swear that chain is now freaking bias.) I stared at the glowing chain with the utmost loathing. In fact, I was still staring at it while Spain went to go grab Maria. I didn't even notice when he approached with the bigass glinting axe (he's got a flipping routine to clean that thing-it's a wonder he hasn't chopped off his arm yet or something.)

"Are you ready Roma?" He asked, raising the axe above his head. Gulping, I nodded quickly before bracing myself for the wonderful musical shattering of the chain. I was so ready to get these things off, you wouldn't even believe it. CLAANK Sparks flew (not the sappy romantic thing damnit I mean literal sparks the burning hot yellow thingies that hurt) everywhere, but the chain was completely unblemished. Not even a scratch. Spain stared at the chain, before striking it once more with his axe. It didn't work AGAIN. You would think that after a few hours we would have some sort of breakthrough, but noo we're still fucking stuck with an angry Spain and stupid handcuffs the idiot England refused to fucking remove.

Isn't this day just dandy. Spain was back to staring at the chain, conflicting emotions spreading across his face. Mainly, it was anger. It's been ages since I have seen an angry Spain. H

ave you seen an angry Spain?

No? Good.

You don't want to. It's scary as fuck. He gets all mad (well no _shit_, Sherlock) and his eyes go really dark. And that's coming from someone who gets uh, well, mingles with the mafia on a weekly basis. Or monthly. I try to avoid them, see. I'm not sure they take kindly to homosexual Italians. Anyway, back to Spain. Right. He chucked the axe to one side and tugged on the chain.

But. Then. Something inexplicable happened and the chain have a low groaning sound before retracting like some goddamn high speed train and literally me and Spain flew towards each other (the chain had extended by around 5 metres, so me and Spain practically flew 2.5 metres each. See? I can do math. I totally didn't fail.) Spain and I both gasped simultaneously as we landed in a heap, Spain ontop of me. The position we were in was extremely...uhm...cough...intimate-we were really really close.

Yeah. I immediately felt a blush coming on-those full scale ones where it's practically impossible to hide and you're just like ffff shit now he's staring at my face and really what the fuck can you do so you're stuck there while the other just smirks at your utter discomfort. Well, that is exactly what happened. Spain didn't even bother to get up from his extremely awkward position on top of my waist (closer to hip), (YEAH-I KNOW.) he just smirked (bit like England if you ask me-the fuck is going onnn) and sat there.

"Spain...do you think that you could...maybe...you know...GET THE FUCK OFF ME!" I yelped, face burning in embarrassment. "Nope." He answered, staring straight at me. "

And why the fuck not?" I replied, seething, completely pinned to the floor.

"Reasons." He laughed, (finally acting like the Spain I knew) and grinned. "You look like a tomato, Lovi!"

"Shut upppp!" I groaned, attempting to raise my arms but finding them to be held down as well. Spain grinned again before standing up, pulling me up as well, (for some reason the chain refused to lengthen again) before randomly attacking me in a hug.

"Sorry about earlier, Lovi. I wasn't feeling like myself…" he muttered into my neck, while I tried not to freak out. "

Uh…" I stammered, but by then he had let me go, and had begun to pull me towards the house. "

Let's ask Francis and Gilbert if anything happened to them~"Spain grinned cheerily. Riiight, those two. Those two better be suffering now or god help them I will MAKE them suffer.

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_And there's that! Chapter Three~ Hope you enjoyed it :D _

_~Stormfirej_


	4. Chapter 4

_Helloooo~ I am finally back! Exams are just eleven days away, so I may not update as often as I would like. Plus-I had massive case of writer's block. Sorry!_

_Mattaya Anne: Aww, thank you so much :DD_

_Sabilandako: Grazie for your cute review :D ~ I'll try to update frequently okay?_

_Meantime...enjoy! :)_

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As soon as we got into the house, Spain picked up the phone and dialled for France. Honestly, I was hoping that something worse had happened to him than us. (_he _started this whole thing, not me! I am just the victim here!) France soon picked up, and Spain being a genius (where _is_ he getting these brains from?), put it on speakerphone. The conversation basically went like so:

**France: Bonjour, mon ami!**_** (Hello, my friend!)**_

Spain: Hola, Francis~ Listen, has anything…magical…happened to you lately?

**France: Magical? Ah, oui! (**_**Ah, yes!) **_

_Me: Really? What happened, tell me!_  
**France: Oh, bonjour Romano! You're here too?**

Spain: We're kinda…handcuffed together.

**France: Oh-oh my, Antoine, Romano, what HAVE you been doing at night?**

I swear, the next time I see France; I am going to smack the shizzle out of him. With a shovel too.

_Me: NOTHING, OH MY CHICKEN NUGGETS, ITS ALL THAT BASTARD ENGLAND'S FAULT!_

Spain: Now, now, Roma, don't get mad, he doesn't know yet.

**France: Angleterre did something to me too! I have to teach the poor fool how to cook, n'est-ce pas triste? This is going to take ages! **_**(England did something to me too! I have to teach the poor fool how to cook, isn't that sad?)**_

_Me: Hahahahhaaha England needs to use magic to teach someone to cook ahahahahahhahah_

_*Distant shout from background* _

_SHUT UP, OR I'LL MAKE THAT CHAIN IRREVESIBLE, YOU GIT!_

I shut up, alright, and let Spain carry the rest of the conversation, which ranged from burnt cookies (I can't even get the smell out of my _beautiful_ glossy locks!), spilt soup (This place is going to _stink_ of mushroom soup for AGES dieu, pourquoi _(God, why)_) and then turned to an anecdote of our daily troubles, which had England guffawing at our stupidity. I am going to hit him so hard, I promise you.

Spain didn't seem to mind England laughing at our hopelessness, and laughed along with him. Which begs the question, what happened earlier that turned him all wonky and scary? I stared at him pretty hard, trying not to get distracted (did you know that the light made his eyes sparkle?) as I tried to be Sherlock Holmes and figure out what the fuck had happened. Nothing came to me, so I gave up that profession and tried to be Detective Inspector Lestrade and figure out what had happened to the chain, and stepped backwards.

Finally, fina-fucking-ly, the chain extended with me, and grew to a glowing long chain. The maximum it went was again, approximately five metres. I grinned stupidly and danced around, enjoying the temporary freedom that it gave me. The golden light seemed to show my happiness that the chain was finally listening to me. I mean, this was only a hundred years late!

"Hey, England?" I interrupted him, (he was STILL laughing at us, that poor dude must be absolutely starved of humour at home)  
"What?"  
"Is the chain supposed to extend to five metres?"

"WHAT?" He spat something out, and I distinctly heard France going "I am not cleaning that up, Angleterre!"

I explained to him the glowing thing, and the thought seemed to unnerve him slightly, he began muttering under his breath.  
"The chain symbolizes something." He informed us after a while. No, _shit_, Sherlock.

"You said the same thing just now, before you somehow ended up in France…" I replied.

"I teleported here, if you must know. Did I mention what the chain meant?"

"Uh…" I turned to look at Spain from my position five metres away, for confirmation. "No, you didn't."

"What does it mean, what does it mean, what does it mean? It's something important, something I need to tell you." England muttered, and hung up.

Well…then…oookay. That's normal. Spain stared at me, and I back at him, before I heard that noise, that weird groaning noise, and I shot towards Spain again, but HAH, this time I was prepared and I managed to stop before the chain clicked together. Now, this, this is ninja. I am so fantastic. On the downside, my abrupt stop caused me to dig holes in the carpet, but that was solvable. I grinned as I looked to Spain, relieved that I had managed to save myself from another ridiculously embarrassing experience, but Spain had that dead look in his eyes again. Not again, gosh dangit.

"Roma, do you want to go eat lunch?" He asked, and that's when the chain did the thing. A different thing, but a thing nonetheless.

It made a clicking noise, and then abruptly stopped glowing. The chain had stuck, around a metre long, and didn't budge an inch.

"What the shit?" I asked, poking the chain hesitantly. Spain noticed the thing, but did nothing but smile.

"At least we won't keep hitting each other when we cook." He smiled as he began to walk to the kitchen.

"Hold on. The kitchen? We are going to cook?" I asked, astonished. I didn't think anyone would want to cook when someone is technically handcuffed to each other. "Why don't we just order in mushu pork from that Chinese takeout?"

"No! There's no fun in that!" Spain turned on me fiercely. "Let's make pasta!"

"Pasta?"  
I couldn't remember the last time Spain had offered to cook with me. Normally, it would just be one person in the kitchen cooking alone. But I guess that would be redundant in this point as we ARE connected by inseparable bonds that will take a long time to break. Actually, the cooking with Spain part was more because I kept rejecting his offers. Its totally nothing…just…he looks…really…uhm..hot when he cooks so I tend to give the kitchen a wide berth when he begins cooking, though I suppose now there is no way out.

"Yeah, pasta." Spain smiled, as he pulled out the different ingredients from the various shelves. One good thing about Spain's kitchen was that it was HUGE. Then again, everything in Spain's house was big, but this one took the cake. You could have ten people (I think-did I mention I failed maths?) in here, and each one could be cooking comfortably

"Let's begin!" He grinned, and turned on the stove.

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_Thank you so much for reading~_

_~Stormfirej_

_I do not own Sherlock, all credits to BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_


	5. Chapter 5

_Sabilandako: Ahaha, thank you~ I did alright for my exams, I suppose. France is forced to teach England a dish that he can make without burning, and France cannot be set free until England manages to cook that one dish. Just one. XD_

_ kyouno-aru : Yeah…yeah, Spain's hot. XD (never going to live this down am I?)_

_Enjoy the story and I am so so so so so sorry for being so incredibly late!_

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Now, let me ask you a question. From the word, "cooking", what do you think of? Nice smells, long tiring hours in the kitchen, (depending if you're England or not...) a good dish being served? Yeah? That's what you think? Well. Guess what. Try doing that-while handcuffed to someone. To spare you from the trouble (don't go calling it science, oh and don't put bananas in the microwave cause I did that once, but bananas turn out to be flammable.) (What? It was science!) , I'll just inform you of the results. DISASTER. Complete, and utter disaster. I could list the things that went right, but that would take one second.

Things that went right:

1\. We got into the kitchen. (Brilliant, weren't we? We got through the door on our first try!)

Things that didn't go so right:

(meaning: Armageddon)

1\. Everything that came afterwards. (Seriously, I'm not exaggerating anything here)

For the sake of you people, which is the whole reason why I'm telling you this, I shall take the time to describe to you our epic fail. Enjoy laughing at our expense.

For the first thing, have you ever tried to take out ingredients from a fridge, at the same time? Well, I have! It's a horrifying experience. See, we were going to get the tomato paste, meat, and tomatoes out from the fridge. Now, some divine force seems bent on making me have THE worst day ever, so we both reached for the same thing. The tomato paste. Which was coincidentally behind the milk. (On a completely unrelated note-we need a new bottle of milk) So, me, being me, when I saw Spain reaching for the same jar that I was, I got competitive. I was going to get that jar first, bloody hell. To cut a long story short, I knocked over the milk, Spain knocked over the chocolate sauce (what? I like chocolate sauce, thank you) and we made a huge mess in the fridge.

After suffering from two large-scale panic attacks, we decided to leave the fridge till later, and moved onto the pantry to retrieve the tomatoes, which we got out without much difficulty. (Hooray! Bless the pantry!)

We then went around to the freezer to retrieve the meat. Let me just earn you, frozen meat is extremely hard and heavy, so don't like, accidentally DROP IT ON YOUR FOOT. It hurt, a lot, and then I made the mistake of kicking the bag away. I nearly broke my toe. And Spain refused to help me, because he was too busy laughing at my failures. And he was supposed to be nice!

After we got over the fiasco with the fridge, there was another terrifying (completely terrifying, holy flying potatoes) incident with the handcuffs and the frying pan. See, we were too busy laughing at each other to notice the chain getting shorter, until we grabbed at the frying pan and nearly flew into the stove (needless to say, don't try this at home) which was already heating up for the pan (which was probably out to kill us, or something, that stupid demonic pan.)

Unfortunately, with the chain now terribly short, we could only bicker about who was to do what, and upon attempting to lift the pan single handedly (and nearly having it crash on our feet) and failing, we decided to retire to the living room and order mushu pork from the Chinese takeout and watch movies. Like Star Wars. Which is what I wanted all along, so I can't really argue with that.

"Spain?" I asked, after a particularly awesome fight scene between the Emperor and Yoda.

"Hmm?" He replied, not really paying attention, already half asleep.

"Would it be more awesome if we could use the Force? Then you could lift the pan with no problem!" I grinned and attempted the use of jazz hands, which made me look like a penguin instead because the chain was still extremely short and Spain was lying on his side. Lying on his side didn't put me in the most perfect of positions, I was way too close to him for comfort, (ok, it was very comfortable, and Spain smelt nice, but that doesn't change anything, _**alright**_! Chigi.)

I mean, we were practically cuddling on the couch! Cuddling! _Me_! I was about to get up and change my position because I could feel my face heating up, and _oh god, _this was so embarrassing because I was actually enjoying this And then Spain decided to be the most perfect angel and fall asleep on the cough. His free hand was flung over me, effectively trapping me in his…embrace. Oh, my god. What did I ever do to deserve this? I groaned, hopefully loud enough to wake him, and when it didn't, I wiggled my hand to grab the remote and raised the volume.

"INTO EXILE I MUST GO. FAILED, I HAVE." Yoda's voice blasted around the room, and even though I cringed, Spain didn't react, even giving this little snore.

I nearly hit my head on the remote, resigning myself to an afternoon trapped in his arms (which totally didn't feel nice or anything, _okay?_ You're getting it wrong.) I looked around for something to do as I lowered the volume again, for god's sake, it was so fucking loud, how the fuck can Spain sleep through that? Next time there's a hurricane I'm leaving him behind.

After a while (2 minutes), I decided that however nice Spain's arms felt, (which it _didn't_), I had to get out of here. What can I say? Nature was calling.

"Spain, wake the fuck up, I need to go to the bathroom!" I yelled into his ear, but if he woke he gave no sign of reaction.

"Spain, gosh dangit chicken nuggets, get up!" And because the diplomatic approach wasn't working, I used something that Spain had taught me when I was little, and kicked him in the shins.

He didn't even so much as stir. Just as I was about to give up and piss on Spain just for the heck of it, cause it's all _his _fault, dammit, he began to speak in Spanish. In his sleep. I could barely make it out, but he was muttering something about tomatoes, handcuffs, tomatoes, Romano, handcuffs, damn fairy England, handcuffs, tomatoes.

Don't look at me like that; do I pretend to understand whatever is in his head?

"Spain, WAKE THE FUCK UP OR GOD HELP YOU I WILL PISS ON YOU!"

He merely answered in Spanish, going on about tomatoes and how he was tired. At least, that's what I think he said, I'm not very fluent in Spanish…yet .

I stared at him in disbelief, watched as he mouth curled into this little smile but all I really wanted to do was hit him, but that seemed to be out of the question because of the damn handcuffs. I took a risk and let loose a string of Spanish words that I hoped said wake the fuck up you asshat or I will hit you so hard you will fly into America and get whacked by a hurricane.

"Not cute, Lovi." He replied, opening his eyes.

"I-I-what the fuck."

"You can speak Spanish? That's so adorableeeeee~" He made this little squee-ing noise and crushed me in a hug. "You could have told me earlier, you know." He didn't physically pout, but it was so there in his voice.

"You-but-asleep!"

"You woke me up when you kicked me. That hurt, Lovi."

"Well you fucking deserve it you, you, you bitchsquealer!" I yelped and attempted to roll out of his arms, though he still didn't let go. "Let me go! I need to go to the bathroom, fucker!"

"Fine! But I need to come with you…" He cocked his head, and had the decency to blush.

Fuck.

_Fuck._

_**FUCK.**_

**HOW **will this work? The chain is nowhere near long enough to stretch through the toilet door, and there is _no _way I am getting into a bathroom with Spain.

Spain got up from the couch, and yanked me brutally to my feet. He started to make his way down the hall to some bathroom somewhere (I can _never _find anything in this house) and grinned at me.

"We'll figure something out." He said, still smiling, all happy go lucky.

Clearly, for me, I am not a very happy person, nor a lucky one, so this plan of his didn't really help the situation. But, because of these clearly-from-the-depths-of-satan-handcuffs, I had no choice but to follow.

* * *

_Haha, thank you so much for reading~_

_~Stormfirej_


	6. Chapter 6

I am so so sorry for not updating sooner I am a horrible person, but in my defense I went overseas and couldn't bring my laptop ;-; *withdrawal symptoms*

Enjoy reading~

Sabilandako- Thank you! To me, Roma denies everything :')

Guest- Well, the spamano is coming soon :D :D I suppose it fair to say you guessed it right, though why will come in the later chapters (England IS that cruel) XD

thatsilverbear- hahaha, what monsters lurk in the bathroom? Grazie!

* * *

I could feel my face burning in shame as we headed towards the bathroom. I didn't-I couldn't go to the toilet with him around! N-not when my feelings are as messed up as shit anyways. I tried tugging on the chain to loosen it up again, but. nothing happened.

"Chicken nuggets." I groaned, swinging my ensnared hand. Spain gave me a questioning look.

"It's just the bathroom, Lovi. It's not the end of the world."

I stared at him dumbly. "It's not the end of the world?"

"Yeah, boss'll figure something out~!"

Spain. Forever the optimist.

For my part, I was trying to figure out a way for me to go in peace, but I was epically failing. Fuck this. I resigned myself to my fate, which I had nothing to do with, fucking drunk Spain, it was all his fault! And that bloody British over-reacting midget who couldn't keep his feelings in his pants. It was his fault too. I was still polishing my hatred when Spain stopped, so I nearly whacked into his shoulder. I'm not very tall, okay?

"Well, we're here." Spain had a knack for pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, I can see that, Captain Obvious." I rolled my eyes.

"You are welcome, Sergeant Sarcasm!" He replied, grinning.

What.

"Eh, thank you, Admiral Asshole." I shot back, determined to have the last word.

"Anytime, Dictator Doofus." He laughed at my expression, which I gathered to be one of total shock, and pulled open the bathroom door.

How did he-what the fuck. Those were my lines! I told him so, but he merely smirked.

"I spend too much time around you, Lovi." He said as he pushed me into the room, and followed after.

What.

I seem to be saying that a lot, but what the fuck, Spain was surprising me today. In not very amusing ways!

I stared at him expectantly, but those stupid fucking (hot) green eyes only had guileless innocence.

"Spain."

"Yes, Lovi?"

"I need to go."

"Yeah, so, go! The toilet is right there."

I stared at him again and finally he got it.

"Oh. I can't...eh...stand here, can I?" He at least had the decency to blush.

"Yup."

"Eh, but the chain..." He trailed off, staring at it.

I glared at the chain, hoping my immense hatred for it would make it self combust or something, but the chain just sat there. It even have a little swing, that cocky bastard.

"Go. Away." I hissed, tugging at it.

And you'll never believe what happened.

It went away.

I gasped, completely feminine for a moment as I stared at my free hand.

FREE.

Spain gave a yelp of shock and twirled around, to make sure he was free. And he was.

The first thing I did with our newfound freedom was shove Spain out the door and go to the toilet.

Finally.

After I finally opened the door again I found Spain staring at his recently captured hand and muttering.

I stared at my free hand too before cackling and running away, yelling I'm free! I'm free! I'm finally fucking free! (In hindsight that wasn't such a good idea, but what the fuck.)

Just as I cleared the door, however, there was this jangly clanging sound, and lo and behold, there was a glowing on my left hand, and alacazam. The chain reappeared.

WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME?!

I stopped still as the chain reappeared and all my hopes and dreams crashed with it.

However, I wasn't expecting it to yank me backwards like a fucking rodeo or something. I flew backwards at breakneck speed, screaming like a girl. I was certain that I was going to crash into the sofa, or the table, when I heard Spain start yelling too.

"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT JESUS CHRIST FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK HELP FUCK SHIT OHMYGOD I NEARLY HIT THAT!" I yelped as I zigzagged between furniture, and I distinctly heard Spain yell, "LOVI STOP!" Just as I crashed into him, sending him flying backwards into the living room, where we spun around for a few metres.

I raised my left arm and found it tightly ensnared once again, reducing me to yelling pointless swear words at that chain. I swear it smirked at me.

Spain's arms encircled my waist as he tried to get out from under me, but the touch nearly made me jump. I-it wasn't like I enjoyed it or anything. Nor was it like I wished for him to randomly do that okay, it was not! Was not.

"Lovi, let me uppppp!" He huffed as I leaned back into him.

"No."

"But-"

"No."

"What do I need to do for you to let me up?" Spain asked, arms still around my waist.

"Eh," I shrugged. "Surprise me."

"Surprise you?" Spain sounded surprised. (Bahaha)

I knew already he'd go straight for that stupid curl, (which I actually didn't want him to pull under the current circumstances).

"Yea-" I started, but I had barely begun to finish it when he yanked my curl.

Was I right or was I right?

I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the yelp/moan thing that escaped, but I knew Spain still heard it, because his whole body tensed under me. (Heh)

"What's that curl do, Lovi?" He asked again, voice full of curiosity.

"N-nothing," I stammered.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He yanked it again. Harder, this time. I bit my lip hard, and this time I was silent. Thank heavens. The position wasn't helping either, I couldn't move because of Spain's arms, and Spain was trapped beneath me. (Oh how the tables have turned)

"Seriously, stop. It doesn't work."

"What didn't work?"

"I wasn't surprised."

"Meh." Spain replied, and I could almost see the puzzled look on his face as he tried to figure out what to do, even though I couldn't see him.

Next he would attempt to tickle me, or pull my ear, I figured, smirking. I was prepared for anything! (I actually wasn't, but hey, I was younger and innocent)

Spain fidgeted beneath me (and it felt really weird thank you) and popped his head directly next to mine.

Okay, so he wouldn't pull my ear, he'd lick it, or headbutt me.

He did neither.

Instead, he leaned over and seemed to hesitate a little, before planting a kiss on my cheek.

I yelped, startled (I was NOT expecting that) and scrambled off him, putting a hand over my cheek where his lips had previously been. (I love how I can say that)

Spain was blushing as he sat up, and refused to meet my eyes. Just as well, because I probably looked like a tomato as well.

N-not that I didn't enjoy it, of course. It felt nice. And tingled. Actually I didn't really know what to do now, so I sat there and hyperventilated inwardly, before realizing that I was probably sending Spain the impression that I didn't like the eh uhm k-kiss.

I crawled over to him, who was still blushing and looking down at his hands (he's even more shy than me? Not possible.), and poked his shoulder.

He didn't look up.

I poked his shoulder, again.

He didn't look up either, staring resolutely at his hands

"Spain?"

That stubborn bastard still didn't look up.

I stared at him, wondering just how the hell I was to make him look up, when that idea popped into my head. I immediately tried to veto the idea, cursing myself for even thinking of it. And yet, yet I wanted to do it.

Deep breaths, Lovino. You can do this.

No I can't.

Yeah you can.

I mentally fought with myself for a couple of seconds before agreeing to do it.

My head jerked forward as if it had been pushed, and my lips landed on Spain's cheek.

Naaaaaailed it.

I stumbled away, blushing, as I turned to face the other direction.

I felt Spain's shock just radiating out from behind me, but I was determined not to look.

Don't look.

Don't look.

Don't look.

I turned around to look at him, and found him grinning stupidly at me.

"Ehh...cut that out."

"Loviiiiii!" He grinned, jumped up, and in one swift movement, trapped me in a hug.

I awkwardly patted his back with one hand as the other was handcuffed to Spain's.

He smelt nice. Like mint. I like mint.

So while I stood there, trapped in his embrace, I began planning my brilliant plan of removing these manacles because...because I wanted to hug him properly, damnit.

And that's when the fantastic idea hit.

* * *

And that is it! Thank you for reading~

~Stormfirej


	7. Chapter 7

_kyouno-aru- N-no, totally not familiar at all. At allllll._

_Sabilandako- So what if England is taller than me? I don't need to be taller than someone to kick his ass. :D_

_Guest- Uhm, Roma does like Spain in that kind of way, so honestly, if you woke up with your crush in the same bed and randomly handcuffed together, I would freak out and not be able to think straight (heh gay) and uhm, they aren't very coordinated XD Roma and Spain are super clumsy._

_Enjoy reading ~_

* * *

It was such a brilliant idea that I felt like shouting eureka.

What?

"Spain. Spain. Spain. Spain. Spain." I said, rocking up and down on my feet.

He pulled away and stared at me with a puzzled expression, a slight blush still present on his face.

"Yes, Lovi?"

"Uhm, so, I just got a fantastic idea!" I grinned, gesticulating with my hands, nearly flinging the chain into Spain's face.

"What is it?" He laughed at my enthusiastic expression.

I leaned into his ear and whispered, and when I was done he leaned back, shrugging. "You sure it'll work? We're going to have to take a plane, you know. In chains."

"We'll get him to come here, then!" I said, mind running at a million miles per hour.

This plan would work. Should work.

Spain stared at me, before nodding. "I'll call him, but he's far away. He would take a long time to come here, even if he agrees. Plus, he is kind of scary." Spain shuddered.

I was just about to wave away his doubts when the door smashed open.

It literally, smashed open.

There was dust and wooden splinters everywhere, and the glass shards of what once had been a pretty door-window.

Is it called a door-window?

Oh, I don't know. Adjectives fail me.

I heard Spain give a choked wail. "That door was mahogany!" He cried, staring at the splinters that littered the floor.

I was staring at the empty space which once had a door, when a large figure stepped through the door.

Framed by the dust and splinters, I couldn't really make out who it was that went completely berserk on our door, until I noticed a long purple scarf dragging on the floor.

I jumped a foot into the air, yanking Spain up with me. I had only mentioned his name just 3 minutes ago, how did he get in?

"Hello. You called?" Russia called out, stepping into the light.

He must've noticed our twitching eyes because he gave a half shrug and adjusted the pipe on his shoulder.

"You never mention my name." He said by means of explanation, which really didn't explain anything.

...eh.

Anyway, he was here now, so who the fuck cares about the journey right? RIGHT.

"U-uhm, so, R-Russia, we were in a spot of bother-" I began, trembling, because this dude had just smashed open our door without being told we wanted him. SERIOUSLY HOW WILL YOU NOT BE AFRAID?

"England put that..chain on you and you want it off." He interrupted.

What.

"Y-yeah that's kind of it."

Russia stared at us. "You are aware horrible things happen to people who meddle with magic?"

"Did you just quote Harry Potter?"

Russia came over to us, and I seriously felt like a midget, because Russia was like THIS tall, and I was like THIS short, this wasn't helping at all. It was scaring me, honestly.

Then Russia planted a finger on the chain, and it shuddered and snapped.

It was what I was hoping for. Russia was scary enough without his very scary purple aura, and England seemed to regard him as the anti-England (heh), but there was this deep sense of loss, as the chain fell apart. Like my heart had been broken.

I gasped, a hand going to my chest as tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn't explain it.

Russia gave a cheery wave before walking out of our ruined doorway, muttering something about sunflowers and how this country was missing them.

Whatever.

None of that mattered. What mattered was that Spain was no longer standing next to me, he had moved to the couch. Something had happened.

"S-Spain?" I asked nervously, staring at the stony face before me.

"What do you want?" He snapped, turning onto me with anger-filled eyes.

I made a strangled sound as I looked at his face. He was beyond mad.

"U-uhm, we got the chain off?" I said bleakly, but that didn't change that horrible expression on his face.

"Why are you here?" He asked instead, ignoring my earlier statement.

I looked at him, puzzled. "I live here. With you."

"Didn't you gain independence already?" He retorted, snippily.

"Y-yeah, but it was lonely, and you were lonely, you asked me to stay with you. A-as friends." As friends, my foot. Remember what happened like 5 minutes ago? Yeah?

"Fuck that." He groaned, stood up, and walked over to the alcohol cabinet.

Spain never swore. Spain never drank alcohol in the middle of a day.

"What?"

He turned to the ruined doorway, and frowned even further, green eyes seeming to fade away to a dark green, much like black.

"And clean that disgusting mess up."

I flushed, staring openmouthed. "I am NOT your fucking servant, you bitchnugget!"

Spain turned to look at me, and shook his head slowly, punctuating each word with a turn of his head. "Then what is the point of you?"

I glared at him. Something terrible had happened when Russia broke the chain. Although why it happened to Spain and not me was puzzling.

"S-Spain? What happened to you?"

Spain whirled around to glare even more at me, drink in hand. "Nothing happened, South Italy, unless you wish to count the fact that I am sorely regretting letting you stay here."

Tears sprung to my eyes as Spain delivered his "speech" To say it hurt was an understatement.

It was like an anvil that had been hovering over my head and it dropped suddenly, landing on my head with a thumph. And boy, was I feeling the anvil now.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" I retorted, pretending to be unfazed and unhurt by his words, despite the fucking anvil.

Spain took a long, lengthy sip of his whiskey before turning to answer my question. "Maybe I finally realized what a loser you are."

That hurt more than anything and I found myself about to break character.

"W-why are you being so mean?" I choked, stumbling away and out of the ruined doorway.

From the doorway I heard Spain yell after me, "And don't come back, South Italy!"

* * *

_Thank you for reading :D_

_~stormfirej_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello! I had an inspiration so I got this chapter written rather fast XD_

_Kin of Norway- Everyone loves Russia XD Spain is fucked up man, I blame England. xD_

_Sabilandako- Roma did something bad and now Spain's messed up now. But he'll fix it! Somehow XD_

_Enjoy~_

* * *

I stumbled out of the house, dazed and confused, away from the taunts of the person I had once considered a friend (or more than one…just for the record).

Water rolled down my cheeks and I looked up, determined it was raining.

I don't cry. (Although I probably was)

I have never cried since that time a couple of years back when I accidentally watched Hachiko. (Spain was bawling too, okay.)

I walked blindly through town, bumping into people and generally causing quite a commotion, until I arrived at _Parc de la Ciutadella_, a park Spain and I used to visit and have picnics there. The memory actually forced a stab through my heart, but I ignored it, or tried to.

All I could say was this park was huge. It has a zoo, a lake, a hugeass fountain, sculptures and museums, which made to be a pretty exciting day. I remember when Spain and I were about to leave, I accidentally told him that I had really enjoyed myself (ok in hindsight I should have told him, but honestly, I'm a shyass dork, so shut up) and he had grinned and replied, I quote, "Si! Dates are fun, aren't they, Lovi?"

I don't think he ever noticed the slip of tongue, nor did I point it out, because I was relishing in the fact that Spain had just, technically, considered it a date, and technically, that meant I was special.

I sat next to the water gloomily, swishing it around with my fingers and scaring the hell out of a duck that approached me because I had been silent for so long. As I sat there, practically ninja-invisible and silent, generally feeling like Canada (no offence Canada, but really, you get my drift) when these tourists came over and sat next to me, chattering away.

"I can't wait to show these pictures to John!" Annoying tourist number one said.  
"Yeah mate, I hope he's having fun back in England." The second laughed extraordinarily loudly, before the duck got bored of their bread and went away, leaving them to depart in search of this duck which one had named Bob.

Bob the duck. Really?

Nothing was amusing now.

Meanwhile, despite how annoying those two had been, like seriously, I am trying to be depressed here because the closest friend I had suddenly turned on me like I had punched his grandma, but the two had given me an inspiration.

I remembered back only half an hour ago when I had another brilliant idea, which turned out to be not so brilliant, and had felt like shouting eureka.

"Eureka." I muttered under my breath as I stood up, brushing the leaves from my jeans as I started to walk back towards the house of utter depression and meanness.

I mean, come on. I knew I was mean sometimes, but not THAT mean. Not Spain-mean. Look, he even got his own category under:

People who have been mean to me list.

Actually there weren't many people on that list, it was usually the other way around.

But something bad had happened to Spain and it had fucked with his brain, so naturally I was going to fix it, because he was my friend, dammit.

I tried my best to get the chain off with what little information England had given us, but I didn't succeed. Which wasn't surprising, I was generally a failure at life. I had gotten what I had wanted, but not what I had needed. But you be damn straight (or gay) that I am going to fix this, somehow.

I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had failed to see I had arrived at the House of Doom. (Which actually was a pretty cool name, for a house.)

I stared at the still ruined door, having only been gone for about an hour, and hesitantly stepped inside. I was immediately greeted with a barrage of verbal abuse, ranging from didn't you leave already to get the fuck out of my house, which actually hurt a lot.

"Ah, fuck you." I retaliated. "I need to get my stuff, assbutt."

"Jerk." He rolled his eyes before looking back down at his magazine.

I took the stairs two at a time, each step hurting more than the other, and finally appeared in my room. I collapsed face down on my pillow, taking a deep breath, and realized it smelt like Spain, before all this drama. All in the course of a day. I looked up from the pillow to the clock on my wall, and realized it was 6 pm.

I buried my face in my pillow (which smelt of Spain and was really not helping) and sobbed into it, before the sudden notion that if Spain came up and had seen me whimpering like a baby it would not help my social standing with him. I sat up, drying my eyes on my T-Shirt, before starting to shove clothes into my suitcase.

I needed to pay a visit to a very special person.

I was still considering which jeans to bring when Spain banged open the door. I glared at him, despite all I wanted to hug him and stuff, and said haughtily, "Excuse me?"

Spain frowned at me, with a half-filled suitcase, messy hair and possibly red eyes, before saying, "You are really leaving?"

I stared at him, disbelief crossing my face. "You made it pretty clear you wanted me gone, idiot."  
He gave a big smirk. "I didn't expect you to leave so soon, sweetheart. I was just getting started!"

His words sounded so fucking sinister, that I made a squeaking sound that could either have been help, or no. He took it as a no and shrugged, cracking his knuckles.

The sound frightened me, so I threw a shoebox at his crotch and, with all the courage I could muster, yelled at him to get out of the room. He gave me an angry look and went, not before tossing the shoebox back at my head.

Jerk.

I finished packing in record time, I was, for once, wholly afraid of Spain and what he would do to me, if I didn't leave as quickly as I could. Even when Spain was a pirate, he didn't scare me as much as he did now, with his big smirks and dark eyes.

Before I left, I had one very important phone call to make, having only memorized the number because Spain had forced me to.

"Hello, France? Is England still at your house?"

* * *

_Thank you for reading~ This story is almost over DX_

_~Stormfirej_


	9. Chapter 9

_Kyouno-aru: Hahaha, I did update :D in the end_

_EverythingMath: Tell me about it XD abrupt is an accurate description._

_Well, this story is almost over :D let me know what you think about it in the revieews, thank youu! Until then, enjoy_

* * *

The plane ride was excruciating. In retrospect, the plane ride was actually less than two hours, but it felt like hell. It wasn't crowded, I had an empty seat next to me, and on the far left there was a quiet Frenchman with brown hair and brown eyes, you know, normal stuff that otherwise wouldn't have bothered me.

But today it did.

I was lonely and miserable, I wanted to cry but didn't want to appear weak, even though the Frenchman seemed more interested in his book, which upon closer inspection, turned out to be Sherlock Holmes and the Hound of the Baskervilles. The fact that someone other than England or me appreciated the book would ordinarily have made me happy, but now just reminded me of the huge bloody git that England was.

I would smack his face so hard, I swear to God.

I didn't appreciate the need to fly too. I disliked flying; I had an irrational fear of heights which not many people know about (I prefer to keep my fears hidden, thank you), but the alternative was a six hour and twenty minute long train ride, and I wasn't sure if I could last that long in that house with that madman.

He really was mad, in both senses of the word.

And to be honest, he scared me. People do not usually scare me, unless you happen to be Russia or something, even England in his fairy suit with all his glitter and gayness didn't scare me. Magic can be undone, clearly, without following the rules, but then you had to suffer the consequences. These were my consequences.

I slammed my head against the window, (I had bugged the Frenchman to let me sit there for 500 years until he moved over, though he seemed to enjoy where he was sitting more now, so hah) and winced at the sudden pain that lanced up my head.

I mean, things had taken a huge, abrupt turn, which I wasn't expecting to be honest (who expects something like that, come on) and I didn't understand most of it, which was why I was heading to go punch see England and beat him to a pulp ask him nicely for answers

…

What?

I looked out onto the French countryside and fought back tears, ending up with this wheezy, rattling sound that just escaped instead, causing my delightful young companion to look up from his book, a bit panicked. No surprise, I probably sounded like the Hound in the story that went around killing people.

He saw me, finally, actually saw me sitting there (I think when I was bugging him he didn't even look up to see who it was, I could've been the bloody Queen of England for all he cared) and stared.

He slid over a seat, and said with a pleasant French accent, "You seem sad."

Brilliant deduction, I couldn't have guessed. I looked quickly to my watch, it was 5 more minutes to landing, leave me alone, go away, please.

"I-uhm, please just leave me-" I tried, wanting to end all conversation so I could mentally cry in peace, when he interrupted me.

"People think that it is better for them to be alone when they are sad, but that is wrong." He continued, carefully thumbing down the page where he had stopped and placing the book on his lap.

I turned to look at him, and saw that he was not as young as I had made him out to me. He peered at me through his glasses and smiled. "When you are alone and sad, there is no one to make you feel happy again."

"But what if you have no one left to make you happy anymore?" I asked, thinking my only friend in the world has just told me he hated me, which wasn't very happy-ish.

The man chuckled and tightened his seat belt as the descent started. "You always have someone to make you happy again."

I stared at him through the entire descent, the touchdown, the walk to claim baggage, immigration, until he climbed into a black taxi and disappeared, and I was left stranded in a French airport with no idea where to go or what to do.

I did not think this through.

I was just about to crack and call France (the embarrassment) when a black limousine rolled up next to me.

"You South Italy?" The huge driver asked, and when I nodded, he gave me a look like get in or I will kill you and your pet cat, and gestured to the door of the car. When I got in, I was surrounded by roses and different wines, and realized this must be France's mode of transport.

Dude.

I took the BUS to the airport.

The car took off without any warning, so I was blown backwards into a pile of (thankfully) non-thorny roses, which were immediately squashed under my weight.

_Sorry, roses._

I made a mental note to never put flowers into my car or it'll suffer the same fate, and looked around to where I was headed.

It wasn't too hard to spot the approaching house. It was bigger than Spain's house, but Spain's looked more majestic in a way.

When we finally rolled up to the driveway, France was standing there to greet me., the biggest smile on his face ever. (I bet he was pleased that I was finally visiting, everytime he held a dinner party I hid in my room and let Spain visit for me.)

We exchanged the usual greetings and courtesies, and then he dragged me inside to show me England, who he had summoned to the dining room. He literally used the word summoned. I gave him a weird look, and then he shoved me inside the double doors.

To say the dining room was big is an understatement. You could fit an entire battalion in there. There were a hundred wooden chairs with a huge grey granite table top, and fancy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling that seemed to make an imposing stare on everyone. I felt tiny in that room, like a mouse in front of a giant.

England turned to me with a surprised look, I had almost forgotten he was there. Then, a smile crossed his face. "You got the chain off? That's great. Guess you two are dating now, aren't you?"

I stared at him, then at a wooden chair in the vicinity, then back at him. I remembered my earlier promise of smacking him with a chair, and I did exactly that.

I raised the chair over my head and brought in down with a crash onto England's head. The splintering noise it made made me feel very good about myself.

England made a groaning noise and touched his head, which may or may not have been bleeding (cackles) and a spark of something green flew from his fingers, and the bleeding immediately stopped. The chair, however, was ruined. I hope it wasn't mahogany.

"What did you do that for, you bloody git?!" He yelped, after his injuries had been tended to.

"FOR YOUR STUPID MOTHERFUCKING CHAIN THAT DESTROYED SPAIN!" I screeched.

He gave me a stare. "What?"

I explained to him everything that happened, the frown on his face becoming more pronounced with each sentence.

When I was done, England finally explained his motive. "The chain represents the bond between you and Spain, I remember now. When you two weren't bonding well, the chain grew longer, representing the distance between the two of you, and vice versa. The aim was for the two of you to finally confess your love for each other, honestly, it was as obvious as one plus one. As for the toilet, I am not that evil. I simply incorporated a sensing spell into it, when it sensed it was in a bathroom, it would elongate. When you rushed off, the sensor detected it no longer being in the vicinity of a bathroom, and shrunk instantly.

"When you had Russia break the chain, you severed your bond with Spain, and what you had come to love about him. It happened to him because it was your idea in the first place. As for fixing it, I can do nothing. I would suggest you work on trying to get Spain to remember who he was in the beginning and teach him to be less mean? You have to be patient. No rushing, or you might cause permanent damage, got it?" England glared at me for making him speak so much, and rubbed his face with both hands. "I can teleport you back tomorrow morning, but you are going to have to spend the night here."

I nodded, brain swimming with this new information, it was, after all, ten pm at night.

England pushed me out the door and up the stairs until I came to another set of doors.

So.

Many.

Doors.

He opened the door and told me it was my room, before leaving me alone in the room. I collapsed onto the bed and stayed that way for a long time, until exhaustion finally caught me. I didn't even bother to change, shower, or brush my teeth.

* * *

_Thank you for reading :D leave a review if you liked it hurhuhrur_

_~Stormfirej_


	10. Chapter 10

_EverythingMath- haha, this story is unusual. But I try XD_

_Kyouno-aru- ahhaha you genius XD thank youu~ and yes, i did update. You proud of me?_

_This story probably only has two more chapters max to go. It was fun writing :DD_

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I nearly died.

I was having a nightmare, and there must have been a lot of tossing and turning around, because I woke up clinging onto the table, head inches away from the floor. I screeched and automatically let go to break my fall, and then I landed with a thumph on the floor.

A not-so brilliant way to wake up, don't you think?

I staggered up, joints protesting, and looked around the room. It was massive, as everything was in France's house. (except for France's you-know-what, if you get my drift) I swivelled my head to look around at everything, eyes finally coming to rest on a suitcase next to a fancy brown door. I grabbed my suitcase and heaved open the door and it opened up to a bathroom.

This was so cool.

The bathroom had a bathtub, shower area, sink, fancy buttons that I didn't know what it did, whatever you imagined a bathroom would logically have, it was there. Guess France's economy wasn't suffering as bad now, was it? (Unless all the money went to this…thing, house, mansion)

There were fancy gold trimmings running around the tub, and towels monogrammed with France's initials, FB. He was trying too hard. I hunted around the place for a while, before eventually finding a towel without his name on it, and proceeded to take a shower. There were many fancy buttons, which basically meant I had no clue which one did what. I settled on pressing the middle one, and a spray of soap shot out from the corner of the wall.

What.

It took me ages to have a shower, and when I was done, I was in a horrifying mood. I marched down the steps, every footfall making a sharp clang on the marble flooring. When I finally reached the end of this absurdly long stairwell, I came face-to-face with England again.

"Ready to go back to Spain?" He asked, staring straight at me. "I do not think I can stand you for another hour."

I glared at him and nodded my head. England threw something at me, it was foul-smelling and black, but when I looked up he had disappeared. France had disappeared. I was staring at the outside of Spain's house, with the half-finished doorway. The lights weren't on, I suspected the worst. Gently, I pushed open the scaffolding door and stepped into the house. It was dark and cold. I picked my way around the empty take-out containers and liquor bottles until I came the the staircase. It was so dark, I couldn't help but notice two green lamps in the darkness.

When did we have green lamps?  
Then the green lamps whumped into me and knocked me against the wall, all breath going out of me at once. I heard a click, and the light directly above me flipped on, and I came staring into the face of Spain. The proximity unnerved me.

Spain grinned, white teeth flashing. "Hello, sweetie." He whispered, voice a mixture of anger and sarcasm.

I stuttered, scared and feeling the closeness all too well. He stared at me, then his eyes jumped back and forth between me and my lips. I flushed.

"L-let me go, you dickhat!" I screeched, struggling against his hold. Spain may not look like it, but he is extremely strong.

"Don't you have something to do, first?" His question surprised me.

"Do? Do what?" I replied, puzzled, but all he did was let me go, and walked out the door.

I rubbed my sore wrists and stared at his disappearing silhouette. He never once looked back.

Over the course of the next few days, life with Spain was almost unbearable. It seemed to be literally impossible for Spain to come back to his old self, no matter what I tried. I even tried being very suspicious about where I was going so he'd follow me, and I took him to a place where we frequently ate dinner, but there was no spark, no recognition, nothing. He had taken to calling me sweetie, sweetheart and honey, but the names were said with such spite that it really didn't have the "pet name" feel to it.

I stared gloomily at the waters of _Parc de la Ciutadella, _it became my favourite haunt, an escape from the house of terror.

Worse still, Spain always seemed to know exactly what I wanted to do. There was another incident when we had been arguing and me, being pissed, had grabbed Spain unexpectedly and shoved him up against the wall, displacing a few paintings.

"YOU ARE SUCH A COCK!" I hollered into his face, but he merely smirked.

"If you want to, you can." The sudden change of topic threw me off track.

"What?"

"If you want to kiss me, as I know you do, you can." He clarified, dark eyes glittering with mirth. That was the final straw. I hit him, hard, a good uppercut to the jaw that even made him squeak a little.

"I hate you!" I bellowed, stalking off, but Spain merely chuckled behind me. I whirled around, Spain was rubbing his now red jaw, and smiling.

"I love you too, sweetheart. Why, if you hadn't been so rude just now, I would've kissed you for you, considering how shy you are." He laughed as he turned towards the direction of his room.

I wanted the last word, as I always did, and yelled after his disappearing figure, "fuck you!"

"Now?" He grinned, and slammed the door shut.

Damn him to hell.

I clambered down from the tree I had been perched on, and headed back towards the house of terror. Spain wanted me back by 6, never earlier, never later. I began to walk up the hill to the house, chiding myself the whole way.

_You did that to him, you deal with the after effects._

I became lost in my thoughts, and didn't even realize that I was at the house until my nose knocked into the finished mahogany door. I was just about to pull it open when it swung inwards from the inside, and Spain's face appeared in the doorway.

"Where have you been?" He asked, dark eyes narrowing.

"Just…out." I said airily, not wanting to answer. His reply was yanking me inside by the front of my shirt.

"I don't think you understand me, honey. Where. Have. You. Been?"

"_Parc de la Ciutadella._" I spat, glaring at him.

This time, I thought I saw the spark of memory in his eyes, but it was probably my imagination. I pushed past him to the stairs, but had only made it up one when Spain appeared behind me.

He had been like a cat, lately. He turned up everywhere on silent cat feet, you didn't know if he was coming till he was there. He had become nocturnal, always hiding in the dark. He had even developed a strange affinity for milk when he couldn't drink his liquor.

"Don't go there anymore."  
I glared at him with all the strength I had. "Excuse me? You can't tell me what to do."

"You're forgetting I was your boss." He said, smiling wickedly.

"Was. Not anymore." I replied, frustrated.

"Still holds."

"DOES NOT!" I lost it. I grabbed him and pushed him up against the railing, breathing heavily. Spain stared at me, a little bit of that vicious armour removed. I had surprised him. I was sick and tired of being pushed and kicked around, like a used tissue. The only reason I was in this crap was because England's head was too far stuck up his jealous arse. The whole reason why we even had a handcuffing problem was because England couldn't keep his fucking wand in his fucking pants. Dickhat. Screw England's advice on taking him slow, don't give too many memories at once.

Impulsively, I guess due to the proximity, I leaned forward and kissed him. He still tasted like mint. I held the kiss for as long as I could hold my breath, relishing in the feeling and at the same time terrified of what would happen when I let go.

Spain made a muffled mph sound, and tensed up.

When I had finally run out of air, I pulled away, panting, and Spain immediately swayed and slumped against the railing.

I panicked.

* * *

_Thank you for reading~~ see you next time (though not physically see just..yeah you get the point)_

_~stormfirej_


	11. Chapter 11

_Natsumek- thank you! I'm sorry for the late update, but the others will be later exams._

_Guest- Hehehe, I do enjoy cliffhangers._

_Mayhem- Soz again for the late update. Thank you! _

_Hahaha, this one was pretty late. Sorry! Enjoy reading :D and don't forget to leave a review if you enjoyed it, or not 8D_

* * *

Spain swayed like he was drunk and on a boat (I suppose he was drunk, knowing that idiot) and fell against the railing, eyes fluttering shut.

Shit.

Lovino you big idiot, look what the fuck you did. Look at it. You're such a dick.

I was panicking and hyperventilating, poking Spain in the face to see if he woke up, but he didn't. I picked him up and carried him (he weighs way less than you imagine) and brought him to his room. I was feeling extremely guilty, because I had kissed him and now he was kinda unconscious.

It was all my fault.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I failed to notice the utter mess the room was in, and tripped over the strewn piles of clothes and drinks everywhere. I went flailing down onto the bed, landing ontop of Spain.

I blushed wildly, but Spain was still unconscious, so he hadn't seen that. Thank God, there would have been no end to the teasing. I dumped him ungraciously onto the bed, which for some reason, was slightly sticky.

…I don't even want to know.

Spain was half-hanging off the bed, but I simply left him like that and went around, collecting the empty wine bottles and dirty underwear (honestly Spain, what the fuck) and dumping them into the trash and laundry respectively. I was almost done when there was a loud thumph, I whirled around, dropping the bottles (which thankfully didn't break), and stared at the bed.

There was no one there.

I freaked out, racing to the side of the bed, and lo and behold, there was Spain, crumpled in an undignified heap on the floor.

Oops.

I picked him up and practically threw him into the middle of the bed, making sure that he couldn't fall off if he tried before going back to tidying up his room like I did when I was younger, and he was still a pirate.

A hot pirate, but a pirate nonetheless.

I kept failing at these simple tasks, my hand to eye coordination was horrendous, and I kept knocking over stuff, like bookshelves and mops, I don't even know how he could have stood me back then, or why he even kept me. Everyone asked him to take in Feli instead, he's a good boy, he won't knock over your bookshelves, yet he never did.

I loved him for that.

And I still do.

A-and many other reasons, which I shall not go into at present.

Yeah. Deal with it.

When the room was cleared, I turned to look at Spain, but he was still lying down in that uncomfortable position I had tossed him in, so me being the _extraordinarily _nice guy I was, rearranged him and made sure that he was lying on his side like he always did (s-sometimes I have insomnia and creep into his room to go bed, okay!) and that he was some-what covered with his blanket (he would kick it off anyway, if he weren't unconscious), before turning to go.

I turned back to stare at him once more, because I may or may not have a thing for sleeping faces, and Spain looked so goddamn innocent that I could almost believe he was still the Spain I loved. Again, I turned towards the door, but ended up looking back again.

You know how in romance novels (n-not that I read those shits anyway I mean pfft) when the main character is in love with this girl, but as he's walking away from her after a huge fight, he doesn't look back so as to show he doesn't care? Like that somehow shows an act of nonchalance, or whatnot, that we're _so _over, oh my god. I could never do that. Every time Spain and I had a fight, and I would be stomping to the door, I would always tell myself, _okay, Lovino, you little shit, you can do this just don't look back, don't look bac-crap._

I would always end up looking back, and Spain would always burst out with a grin, and just like that, the fight would be forgotten.

Even now, despite Spain being a total dickhat, I couldn't stop looking back; waiting for Spain to give me his stupid grin again, and that everything would be alright, finally.

…

Lovino you _sappy _fucker.

I finally ended up racing to my room to grab one of my books, before sitting down next to Spain on his bed and reading.

He loved this book; it was one of the only that he had read, so after a while I started reading aloud. I like doing that.

By the time I had read till chapter ten, my throat was hoarse and my legs were cramped from sitting in one position for too long, so I decided to stop to breathe. It was then, that a rustling of blankets from the other side of the bed caught my attention.

Spain was waking up. I started panicking, because what if it was otherspain? (I had taken to calling him that) I would totally be busted, I was sitting in his room for Christ's sake.

Spain began to mumble a few incoherent words, and his eyes struggled open groggily. "L-Lovi?"

Lovi.

He called me Lovi. I don't think I've ever missed that name as much as I do now.

"Spain? I-it _is _you, right?" I called out, still in my half perched mode of flight, ready to escape should the need arise.

"Y-yeah, of course it is me, who else would it be, silly?" He sounded confused and lost. "Why are you in my room? I was just taking a siesta…"

I stared at him, realizing that he remembered nothing of what happened.

"U-uhm, nothing, I just, you, you were being, slightly, not yourself."

"Not myself?" He pushed himself up to sitting position, hair mussed from the pillow, and eyes half open. He looked fucking _sexy_, if I do say so myself. I suddenly felt the urge to kiss him again.

"What do you mean, n-oh." He voice stopped short, then cracked.

"Oh?"

"D-did I do all those stuff to you, Lovi?" His eyes opened wide, all sleepiness gone. Pain shone through those eyes, as visible as the moonlight outside.

"Uhm, yes." All the tears I had been holding back seemed to spring at once, the tightly screwed cap on my emotions popping open. I fought hard to keep the tears from sliding down my face, and ended up with the blurriest of visions.

I felt someone slide up to me, before he pulled me into a bone-crushing embrace.

There were muttered apologies and little neck kisses which had been his thing recently, (honestly we were practically a couple just that we haven't actually defined it yet) and the whole thing felt like it was straight out of a stupid romance novel, and when had my life become like this?

I rubbed my nose and patted his back.

"It's alright." I muttered, tears gone.

Suddenly, his entire body tensed and his neck went red, as it usually did when he was blushing, and then he asked me in the quietest voice ever, that could even challenge Canada, but I heard him as I always do.

"Did you kiss me?"

* * *

_Haha, thats about it. Thank you for reading ~~_

_~stormfirej_


	12. Chapter 12

_Last chapter yayyyy _

_It was a lot of fun writing this, but I doubt I will do a part 2. I have started a new AU fic called Of Kings and Queens (yesh it is spamano) so..yeah._

_Natsumek: Thank you! I haven't updated because I've been so busy, sorry!  
_

_Mayhem: Ahaha, I may have been a bit slow, lo siento _

_Guest: *cackles evilly* I love cliffhangers when I am the one writing them._

_Enjoy~_

* * *

"K-kiss you? I…maybe I don't know I anyway, how have you come back to normal?" I stammered, blushing, which probably was an answer enough for him.

I cannot tell him I kissed him, who do you think I am?

I felt like I was going to overheat from the insane blushing.

What is the point of blushing though? Why did human evolution allow us to blush?

"Normal? I, I don't know," Antonio looked at me from the corner of his eyes and sighed. "I don't know a lot, to be honest. It is like a dream, everything slips away the moment I try to remember. Feels like I am running in place, to be honest."

He flopped back onto the bed and buried his head in his pillow.

"Hey, Lovi," he called out from the pillow, voice muffled.

"Yes?"

"You were there the whole time, weren't you?" He continued.

"Yes…Where are you going with this?" I asked, suspicious. His face was still in the pillow.

I wanted to kiss him so _badly_ it hurt.

"Could you write it down for me? Like a book?" He asked, looking up from the pillow, giving me these puppy dog eyes that were impossible to say no to.

"B-but, you never read books," I retorted, wringing the bed sheets in my hands. "There would be no point."

I still don't know why, but I must have chosen my words badly, but Spain _pounced _on me like a fucking lion or something and pinned me to the bed.

…

I may or may not have liked that.

Okay I did.

Just a little. (You hear that sound? It is my reputation going down the drain.)

"Don't say there will be no point!"

I gulped.

"There is a point, because I want to know what I did! And, it, it must have you hurt you, I can see it! So you will please tell me what happened!"

To cut a long argument (with sexy mad Spain) short, I ended up writing an anecdote of my…I would say adventures, for Spain.

Which is this book. Yay.

I know that he was awake and all at this point but ending the story just like that: And he woke up the end is against my values. (Yes I do have values thank you) You need a proper ending to end a book.

Besides knowing Spain he's probably going to tell that French fuckface and the other german potato bastard, who would tell that british fucking fairy and the other his potato brother, who then would tell the hyperactive American one and my annoying ass brother, and pretty soon the entire bloody world will know.

So yes.

Back to the ending.

After Spain managed to convince me to write a stupid book for him, we sat on the bed in silence.

I don't know what Spain was thinking,(probably triumph that sneaky little freak), but I was having an inner conflict.

A major, inner conflict.

So major that I was certain Spain could see my inner conflict.

Eventually, I mustered up the courage to turn to Spain and say, "I will write your fucking book, but for a fee."

_Lovino: One. Inner conflict: Zero._

Spain looked surprised, "A fee?" He asked.

"Yes." I nodded, in too deep to chicken out. "I-if I write your stupid book-" I took a deep breath, "-then you will-", I choked, "-have to kiss me. Okay?"

_Lovino wins._

Spain's mouth dropped open and he stared, face turning tomato red.

I stared straight ahead at the television, heart pounding wildly. I could feel my heart through my shirt and I was terrified, because oh _god,_ what if my heart exploded and I couldn't hear his answer?

_hyperventilating hyperventilating hyperventilating hypervenitating hyperventilating hyperventilating_

"You want me to kiss you?" His voice was very high-pitched.

"Uhm, yes." _Duh. _Did I not make it obvious enough? "Y-yeah, I want you to kiss me."

Spain remained quiet for so long I was certain he didn't like me back. When he finally did speak, it made me jump.

"So you did kiss me, back then. I thought that was just my imagination." He sounded amused.

"SPAIN CAN YOU JUST FUCKING ANSWER MY QUESTION?" I screeched, tired of waiting. (Patience wasn't my strongest point).

Spain looked startled. "Wait."

"I have been waiting!"

"Repeat your earlier statement for me, but, can-can you use my name?" He asked, much like a child begging for candy.

"Spain, can you just fucking answer my question already? Didn't I say it?" I was so confused that pigs could have started flying and I would have grouped them into the bird section of the classification chart.

"No, no, Lovi, my name." He looked at me.

"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooohhh."

I got it. A bit slow, yes, I'll grant you that, but I did get it. That's all that matters.

"A-antonio, can you just fucking answer my question already?" I repeated, staring at the bed.

When Spain didn't answer, I looked up, and then something soft touched my lips.

Well.

That was some answer.

A-and just in case any of you fuckers are reading this we totally did _not_ make out on his bed.

Okay?

Okay.

"I'll give you many kisses if you want them, Lovino. But, please, call me by my name now?"

I was blushing too much to answer him, but I nodded, which I hoped was enough.

It was.

"S-so are we a thing now? A couple?" Spain asked, sounding a little lost.

For nations, it is hard for us to get into a relationship. In fact, I would go as far as to say we avoid it. It isn't just me; everyone denies how they feel about the other. The rare exception was England and France, but then again the two had helped raise Canada and America.

Nations live forever. Even after your country is razed, as long as the idea of you remains, you are still alive. Like that other german potato bastard, Prussia. His country disappeared a long time ago, but he's still around because the idea of him still remains.

To get into a relationship with another country is essentially forever.

Breakups are hard because you'll constantly see them around.

To get married to another country is also allowed, but also, forever.

To be a couple with another nation you had to be sure you wanted it, that you could live with that person.

"W-well, you've got to ask, right?" I blushed, looking at Spain.

"Oh, right. L-Lovino, uhm, do you think you, well, will you be my boyfriend?" He was blushing harder than me and looked positively cute.

I tentatively leaned up to kiss him and muttered the words, just loud enough for him to hear:

"_Gods, yes."_

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading this fic~ adios, mi amigos :D_

_~stormfirej_


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